


Dream Within a Dream

by TaleasOldasTimeandSpace



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff and Crack, I REGRET NOTHING, Sherlolly - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but Mary's alive, excpet victor, he's still dead, i've fallen so far down the rabbit hole the mad hatter waved at me as i sailed past, in ninth doctor voice: just this once everybody lives!, runs into the night cackling manically, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9870791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace/pseuds/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace
Summary: Sometimes, bad things happen, and there's nothing you can do about it.  But every once in a while, you get a chance to change things.Sometimes, you learn the lessons without the heartbreak.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on my [crack 'Secret Episode' theory](https://taleasoldastime-andspace.tumblr.com/post/156147865518/my-secret-episode-theory-if-there-is-a-fourth), back when those were still a thing. I was sorely tempted to call it How It Should Have Ended, but restrained myself, because I'm a mature adult.

_‘Sherlock!’_

His eyes snapped open and he frowned, blinking rapidly as he tried to get his bearings.  He could have _sworn_ he was with John just a moment ago, running after some criminal or other.  But John were here, hovering over him with a look of mingled worry, disappointment, and irritation on his face—in other words, quintessential John.  Over John’s shoulder, Mycroft was watching him, wearing his habitual expression of disapproving indifference.  Though Sherlock realized he could now recognize it for what it was—a mask to disguise his guilt and overwhelming love.  And next to John…

‘Mary!’  He lunged forward, wrapping her in a hug.  Mary was _here._   She was _alive._

‘For goodness sake, Sherlock,’ she said, her voice muffled by his jacket, ‘you were only gone four minutes.’

‘Four minutes?  But…’  He let go of Mary and straightened up.  It finally sunk in.  He was on the _stupid_ plane.  _Again._   Exactly how many times was this going to happen?

Mycroft sniffed.  ‘If you’re quite finished with the dramatics, there’s a little matter that requires your attention.’

‘Moriarty, yes.  Not to worry, I’ve got that all sorted.’  Sherlock jumped to his feet, edging around John and Mary to clap a hand on Mycroft’s shoulder.  ‘You know, I’ve always thought you were a rubbish brother, but you’re really not, are you?  I mean, granted, it didn’t quite work out the way you hoped, but you really did the best you could.’

John leaned toward Mary.  ‘Any idea what he’s talking about?’

She shook her head.  ‘Not a clue.’

‘Right then.’

Mycroft leaned away from Sherlock.  ‘Good heavens, are you dying?’

‘Not anymore!  In fact, I’m glad to be aliiiiiive!’ he said, waving a hand and almost clocking John on the back of his head.  John yelped, and Mary snickered into her hand.  Sherlock swiveled around and pointed a shaky finger at them.  ‘Shut up.  I’ll get to you two in a minute.’  Swinging back to Mycroft, he sucked in a deep breath.  ‘Now then, I have a list.  First of all, Lady Smallwood’s assistant, Vivian Norbury.’

Mycroft raised a brow.  ‘Who?’

‘Vi-vi-an Nor-bur-y,’ Sherlock repeated, enunciating each syllable.  ‘You might know her better as Amo.’

Mycroft’s left eye twitched.  ‘What about her?’

Sherlock shrugged.  ‘Nothing much.  Just that she’s a traitor, responsible for the failure of Mary’s last mission.’  There was a sharp intake of breath behind him, but he ignored it.  ‘You should arrest her immediately.  Culverton Smith too, while you’re at it.’

Apparently deciding he was in for the long haul, Mycroft sank into the seat next to him and covered his eyes.  ‘What’s Culverton Smith done to annoy you, then?  Kissed too many babies?  Donated to the wrong charities?’

‘Nothing so boring as that.  He’s simply turned his hospital into his own private murder castle, that’s all.  You’ll find it’s riddled with secret passageways, so that he can kill whenever he gets the urge.’

‘Anyone else you’d like me to arrest?  The Prime Minister perhaps?  Maybe the Queen?’

‘Unless one of them happens to be a serial killer, no.’  He clapped his hands.  ‘Now that that’s out of the way, we can get on to the important stuff.’

‘Traitors and serial killers aren’t important?’ John asked incredulously.

‘Well they’re so _ordinary,_ aren’t they?  No, what we really should be concerned about is the East Wind.’

Mycroft froze, then slowly raised his head to stare at Sherlock, all the blood draining from his face.

‘The East Wind?’ John wrinkled his brow.  ‘Isn’t that the story you said he told you?’

‘Yup.  Only it’s not a fairy story, is it, Mycroft?’

‘You…remember?’  Mycroft’s voice was almost inaudible.

‘Finally.  Listen,’ he knelt beside Mycroft and put a comforting hand on his arm.  John and Mary exchanged shocked glances.  ‘I know you did the best you could, but you trusted the wrong people with Eurus’ care.  She’s running Sherrinford now, and she’s behind the Moriarty video.  Apparently, they got on like a house on fire.’  Mycroft winced, and Sherlock grimaced.  ‘Sorry.  Poor choice of words.  Anyway, you need to completely replace the staff at Sherrinford, and move her to a new cell.  The one she’s in now hasn’t got any glass.  I’ll also need you to schedule me regular visits with her, and eventually we’re going to have to tell them she’s still alive.  And there’s a well at Musgrave that holds the remains of Victor.’

Mary leaned forward.  ‘Sorry, what are you talking about?’

‘Yeah,’ John said, looking back and forth between Sherlock and Mycroft.  ‘Who’s Eurus?’

Mycroft closed his eyes.  Without turning around, Sherlock said, ‘Our sister.  Completely mad, homicidal, and absolutely brilliant.  I can reach her though, Mycroft.  I just need to play with her.  That’s what she’s wanted.  She doesn’t have to be lost anymore.’  He patted Mycroft’s arm.  ‘And you don’t have to care for her alone anymore.  Now then,’ he continued, standing and turning to John and Mary.  ‘Just a few more things.  Mary—you don’t have to face your past on your own.  If it comes knocking, and it will come knocking, John and I will face it with you.  So don’t try anything stupid like drugging me and running off halfway across the world.  Oh, and stay away from aquariums.  Just in case.’

Mary frowned and opened her mouth, but Sherlock pointed to John.  ‘Your phone.  I need it.’

John crossed his arms.  ‘Why?’

Sherlock made a grabby motion.  ‘Give.’

John rolled his eyes, but pulled his phone out and held it out to Sherlock, who slapped it out of his hand and stomped on it.  _‘Hey!’_

Mary jumped up.  ‘Sherlock, what—’

As John bent to retrieve his phone, Sherlock slapped him.  He fell back into a seat, holding his face and staring at his soon-to-be-former best friend.  _‘Ow!_   What was _that_ for?’

Mary’s hand twitched toward the gun under her coat.  ‘Oi!  No one’s allowed to slap my husband except me.  Back off, Holmes, or I’ll shoot you again!’

Sherlock jabbed a finger in John’s chest, making him rock back.  ‘Remember your vow.  Remember that she’s the best thing that ever happened to you, and be the man she thinks you are, the man you want to be.  Because that’s the whole point.’  He stepped back from John and beamed at Mary.  ‘Well, that’s sorted.  Love the name Rosamund, by the way.  Excellent choice.’  He grabbed his coat and started for the exit, saying over his shoulder, ‘I do hope I still get that pardon, brother mine.  I did solve the case, after all, and I’d rather not go to Eastern Europe if it’s all the same.’

Mycroft slowly got to his feet.  ‘Why?  Do you have somewhere else to be?’  he was obviously making an effort to inject the usual bite to his words, and failing miserably.

‘Yup.’  Sherlock pulled on his coat and popped the collar.  ‘I’ve got to get to Bart’s.’

John, still holding his jaw, turned to Mary.  ‘How come you got a hug and I got slapped?’

Mary leaned over and kissed his uninjured cheek.  ‘Because he likes me better, obviously.  You’re just going to have to get used to it.’

* * *

 

When Molly saw Jim’s broadcast, her first instinct was to rush home and barricade herself inside her flat.  Upon further reflection, however, she decided she was done allowing her life to be dictated by psychopaths and would-be sociopaths, so instead she locked the doors to the lab and continued with her work.  Being in a hospital full of people, even if she was in the basement, had to be safer than being in her flat with only Toby to protect her, after all.

And Toby had curled up on Jim’s lap when they watched _Glee_ , so he probably wasn’t the most reliable source of protection at this point, anyway.

She wondered sometimes what it said about her cat that he held Jim and Sherlock in equal affection, but considering the fact that she dated one and pined after the other for _years,_ she decided it really wasn’t something she wanted to know.

She was in the middle of running a blood analysis for one of her patients when there was a bang at the lab doors.  She jumped, convinced for a moment that Jim had come for her after all—though that was _ridiculous,_ he was _dead,_ she’d done his autopsy herself—

_‘Molly!’_

‘Sherlock?’

There was another bang.  ‘Molly, open the doors!’

She dropped her slide and darted to the doors, unlocking them and hauling them opened.  ‘Sherlock, what’s going on?  Jim’s dead, how can he be— _mph!’_

As soon as the doors were open, Sherlock strode through, grabbed her head with both hands, and proceeded to snog her as if his life depended on it.  She was too stunned to react at first, but when he showed no signs of breaking away, she lifted her own hands to cup his jaw and responded enthusiastically.  Chances were she’d been hit over the head by one of Jim’s minions and was currently unconscious and hallucinating all of this, so she intended to enjoy it while it lasted.  Her fingers slipped into his hair, while a distinctly seven-years-ago part of her was swooning giddily over _his hands, they’re cradling her entire head, how is that even possible!_   She was starting to feel lightheaded, and she couldn’t decide if it was from the kiss—Sherlock was kissing her.  _Sherlock_ was _kissing_ her!—or from the lack of oxygen her brain was currently receiving.

Probably both.

They broke apart, and Molly sucked in a gasping breath.  Sherlock leaned his forehead against hers, his own breathing ragged.  When the roaring in her ears died down to a dull thumping in time with her racing heart, she said, ‘Not that I’m complaining, because I’m absolutely not complaining, but…what was that for?’

He opened his eyes slowly, the blue almost completely lost to the black of his pupils.  ‘Because I love you, Molly Hooper.’

She jerked back, but didn’t go very far because Sherlock moved his hands from her head to wrap around her waist.  ‘Oh my goodness, Sherlock, are you _dying?’_   She pressed a hand to his forehead.  He didn’t feel feverish, but then again, she didn’t have the best frame of reference.  Most of her patients were distinctly…frigid.

‘What?  No!’  He pulled her hand from his forehead and held it between them.  ‘Why does everyone automatically assume I’m dying?’

 _Because I always thought you’d die before kissing me?_   ‘Um, you’re not exactly behaving normally,’ she pointed out.

He winced.  ‘Yeees, I deserved that.  However, I assure you, this is the new normal.’

She narrowed her eyes.  ‘Are you high?’

‘No!  Well, yes.’  He eyed her guiltily.

‘Sherlock!’  Her hand jerked, and he tightened his hold.

‘Molly, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t slap me again.’

‘You deserve it, you git!’

‘Yes, I do.  In my defense, poor though it is, I thought I was going to die anyway, and I wanted to do it on my own terms.’

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.  ‘Is there a chance you’re going to start making sense any time soon?’ she asked quietly.

‘Yes, I owe you an explanation.  But could we sit down first?  It’s rather long, and while I’m perfectly comfortable as we are, you’ve been standing for five hours, and your feet are sore.’  He wobbled a bit.  ‘Also, there’s a good chance I might fall over before I finish.’

She choked a laugh in spite of herself, and led him to the small sofa in her office.  Once they were settled, she leaned back and crossed her arms.  ‘Right.  Talk, Holmes.’

He ruffled his hair thoughtfully, and she clenched her fists rather than grab him by his coat and haul him back for another snog.  That could wait until after his story.

‘Okay.  Well, it all started when I shot Magnussen on Christmas…’

* * *

 

Two hours, four coffees, one aborted suicide mission, two drug-induced alternate universes, a secret sister, and a newfound emotional awareness later, all Molly could do was stare at him as she processed everything.  She wondered vaguely if she looked anything like Sherlock did when he was buffering.  Then she snickered.

‘I’m glad you find this amusing,’ Sherlock grumbled, slightly miffed.

‘Sorry, I just—it made me think of _The Princess Bride._   “A dweam wifin a dweam.”’

Now Sherlock was buffering.

‘It’s a movie.  You haven’t seen it.  Obviously.  You’d probably like it, though—it’s got a pirate.’  He brightened, and she grinned at him.  ‘Now then, let me see if I’ve got this straight.  You were sentenced to exile that was to end in your death, so you attempted to overdose instead, causing you to solve seven cases, prevent Mary’s death and John’s cheating—how could he do such a thing, even in your mind palace?!—and remember the sister who is more or less responsible for you being the emotionally-stunted manchild you are today.’  He opened his mouth, but she covered it with a hand, which was enough to shock him into silence.  Interesting, that.  ‘As a result of all of that, you unlocked the emotions you’ve been repressing all these years, and realized that you…’  Here she lost steam.  Yes, he’d kissed her, yes he’d already said it, but somehow that was still the most unbelievable part of the whole saga.

‘That I love you,’ he repeated, his words muffled by her hand.

‘Yeah.  That.’  She let her hand fall, but he caught it, pressing a kiss to her palm before cradling it in both of his.  Her eyes closed involuntarily, but snapped open again when she felt him cup her cheek.

‘I mean it, Molly.  I meant it then, and I mean it now.  I love you.’  He smiled, the same sad smile he’d given her in that hallway the day they’d solved crimes together.  ‘I know I’ve given you no reason to believe me, and I know I’ve treated you terribly.  But you are the one person that matters the most, and you deserve to be happy.’  His smile went crooked, and Molly knew that she was doomed all over again.  ‘And I’d like it very much if you could see your way to being happy with me.’

She turned her head to press a kiss into his palm, reveling in his sharp intake of breath.  ‘I’ve always loved you, Sherlock Holmes.’

‘That’s…good.  That’s very good.’

‘Yes, it is.’  She reached up, running her fingers through his curls and smiling when his eyes drifted shut.  ‘Sherlock?’

‘Mmm?’

‘You can kiss me again.’

‘Oh, finally!’ he said, and swooped in to press his lips to hers.

She could definitely get used to this.

* * *

 

As they were leaving the lab, Sherlock tucked her under his arm.  ‘Molly…’ he began.

‘Yes?’  She cocked her head to grin up at him.

‘Would you like to—’

‘Get chips?’

‘—get married?’

‘What?’

‘What?’

**Author's Note:**

> They decided to take it slow, and got chips first. They waited until the following week to get married.
> 
> Sherlock periodically slaps John's phone out of his hands. John's never quite figured out why, but suspects he's happier not knowing anyway. He's also never so much as looked at another woman, AS IT SHOULD BE. *ahem*
> 
> Eurus was extremely miffed that she didn't get a chance to deploy her murdertime funhouse, but everyone else is much happier with the current arrangement. Especially the (ex)Governor, the Governor's wife, the Garridebs (the non-murdery ones, anyway), and Mycroft. Mycroft still tends to look at Sherlock like he expects him to snap at any moment, but he's adjusting. Slowly.
> 
> Sherlock loved the Princess Bride. It's the only thing he'll watch, aside from trash telly and the Hobbit/LotR movies.
> 
> If you'll excuse me, I need to go eat protein and vegetables to restore my blood sugar to non-diabetes levels.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://taleasoldastime-andspace.tumblr.com/)! We can gush about Sherlolly and other things together!


End file.
